


Matches Plus Gasoline Makes A Home No More

by tonnyerenthing



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Arson, Character Death, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-17 10:31:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1384288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonnyerenthing/pseuds/tonnyerenthing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I am Eren Jaeger. This is the story of how I slowly lost my marbles and burned my home to the ground.</p><p>I am Vash Zwingli. This is the story of how I watched my best friend slowly descend into insanity and helped him burn his home to the ground.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Matches Plus Gasoline Makes A Home No More

**Author's Note:**

> Quick disclaimer! This is based off of a rp a friend and I did several days ago on twitter and that Vash and Eren don't quite act like they would in canon.  
> Also, it's split into two parts. One from Eren's perspective and the other from Vash's.

I am Eren Jaeger. In the eyes of the law, I'm Eren Honda-Jaeger but that doesn't really matter just now.

What matters is that this is the story of how my wife went to war, I lost my marbles and burned my beautiful house to the ground with my best friend.

* * *

 

"Of all the things, why a war?"

I roll over onto my back and stare at the high ceiling of the first story of my house. _Our_ house. I married Izumi Honda several years ago, and sometime after we were married I spent all of the inheritance my father left me on building a fifteen-story house. A house big enough so that Izumi, me, all of her family, and my son and daughter would be able to live together.

But now, our big house is empty. No one's here but me. My daughter went off to college, soon followed by my son; and Izumi and all of her family members left for Japan, to help their father fight in the war.

And so here I am, lying on the cold marble floor of our house, alone, and miserable. Because, in the two years that she has been gone, I have only received two letters, and every letter I send keeps being returned to me.  I mean, I have no way of knowing whether or not she's even still alive.

I can still see her standing in front of our bedroom mirror, scissors in hand, all of her beautiful black hair falling to the floor around her. My beautiful little flower taking out the hairpin I gave her the night we were married, a pale pink amethyst encrusted pin in the shape of a cherry blossom with several smaller blossoms hanging off on short chains.

I can still see her standing before me, beautiful brown eyes looking up into mine while she was clad in older clothes of my own that no longer fit and tears rolled down my cheeks I begged her not to go. Her small voice rings in my ears to this day, years later, brushing the tears from my cheek and saying,

_"My love, one day your sukoshi hana - your little flower - will return to you as the flowers return to the trees in spring."_

With a kiss and a sad smile my little flower turned and walked away from me as I stood sobbing and watched. The war continues on and on and yet my little flower has not returned to me. The spring hasn't come to us yet.

I force myself to stand up and pour another drink. Something I've been doing very often as of late. The ice has begun to make a satisfying _clink!_ against the bottom and sides of my tumbler and the soft _crack crack_ as the honey colored bourbon makes contact with the crystal clear cubes. Right as I have the glass at my mouth, the burn of the vanilla noted bourbon on the tip of my tongue, and the distinct bold smell that my favorite brand has wafting up into my nose I can't bring myself to go any further.

Across the room there's a shadowy figure that looks like me, and I swear I can hear clear as the birds singing outside, a dark voice say, _What's the point of getting drunk if it won't bring her back? Well, Eren? What's your reasoning for obliterating your mind and body every day?_

The voice gets louder and louder until I hurl the glass across the room at the figure, a loud crash resounding off the wall and back to me as the glass shatters and the pieces scatter all over the floor.

"I just want to forget! Is that too much to ask!"

My voice is high-pitched and desperate, it's as though I'm losing my marbles, seeing and hearing things, strange urges to break or destroy meaningful objects in the middle of the night. . .

I sink to my knees and burst into a hysterical fit of sobs. All I want is my little flower back. I want her in my arms, safe and protected, away from the death and destruction on the warfront. I look up to see the fireplace, brilliant red and orange flames flickering high to the point where the reach the bottom of the chimney. The brick chimney I so painstakingly made.

And slowly I get up and can hear myself mutter, "Matches. I need matches."

I'm not quite sure what I'm doing. A slow thought begins to develop, beginning with:

_She's dead. She has to be. It's been so long since I heard from her. She has to. . ._

I look back over and whisper, "What if I just. . . burnt it all to the ground and moved on."

The thought becomes stronger and I find myself hurriedly making my way to the kitchen, ripping drawers apart until I find a large box of waterproof, strike-on-box matches. Within moments my cell phone is in my hand, and I'm waiting for Vash to pick up.

After several rings there's a distant, "Hello?"

I smile as I look at the box and say, "Will you help me do something?"

* * *

 

"What is the something?" Vash's voice is still fairly distant, as though he has his phone on speaker while in the middle of doing something.

I take in a deep breath and push out, "Izumi's off to war, I'm upset and I want to burn my house down."

"Is that a good idea, though?"

"Izumi might be dead, and I need to rid myself of the emotional baggage."

There's a slight pause, before Vash murmurs, "Oh no."

I say a little nervously, pacing the kitchen back and forth, "Will you help me?"

There's another pause before a quiet, "Mmm, sure."

"If you've got gasoline I've got matches."

"I'll be there in twenty minutes."

* * *

 

Each of the twenty minutes goes by at an excruciatingly slow pace. I've paced the entire first floor seven times when I finally hear the anxiously awaited knock at the front door.

I run and stumble slightly when I reach the door handle and swing the giant cherry wood door open.

Vash fiddles around with his coat some, pulling out a large can of gasoline and saying, "It's for emergencies."

I grin and reply, "There's fifteen stories and I have an idea."

Vash cocks his head to the left slightly, motioning with his hand for me to go on.

I take a deep breath and say excitedly, "At a certain spot that means something at every floor, we pour some gasoline, light a match and move on to the next floor."

His face twists into concern before saying softly, "Like going up in the process because that might not be safe we could die."

I shake my head and say, "Like, from the attic to ground floor."

"Ohhh, okay, good idea."

I gesture for him to walk inside shaking the matchbox and saying, "To the attic!"

I wave my hand for him to follow me, and we begin the slow process of ascending all fifteen flights of stairs. When we reach the attic, I kick the door down and mutter, "This place is big and lonely."

Vash jumps slightly at the door being broken into pieces with my foot, but follows me regardless until I stop in the middle of the room, staring down at an antique looking rocking chair.

I look over to him and murmur, "Do you see that chair?"

He nods and lets out a small, "Yeah."

"Gasoline, all over it."

He does as I instruct, and I light one match yelling, "To emotional baggage!"

The chair bursts into flames as soon as the match touches one of the arms, and I turn to Vash and smile so big it feels as though my face is going to split in half. I giggle and say, "Next floor!"

The two of us race down the stairs to the fourteenth floor, and I lead him to the third door on the right.

I turn to him and say, in a voice that sounds very far away, "I made a special room just for her. It's next."

Some how I manage to rip the door clean off its hinges, exposing the immaculate and ornately furnished insides. We walk inside, one after another and I point to a certain leather couch saying, "That couch get that one."

Once again, Vash does as I tell him, a small look of concern upon his face. I walk towards the couch and drop a lit match whispering to myself, "Good-bye my sweet."

I turn and yell, "Next floor, my daughter's room."

Vash has this funny look about him, as though he feels that something is seriously wrong yet follows me anyways.

Again we race down the stairs, and I rip off the door to my daughter - my darling little girly's room. I step in and turn to Vash, whispering in between giggles, "Do you see that bean bag?"

Vash nods, and I say, "All over it. I used to read her bedtime stories there."

A small _okay_ drifts over to me and we repeat the process of gasoline then match. I lean down close to the flames and mutter, "Good-bye my dear," before looking over at him and saying, "Burns nicely, doesn't it?"

My words are beginning to slur and come out in a slow yet jumbled manner. The look of concern on his face doubles in size and he walks a little closer to me, reaching out one hand and saying gently, "Yeah I guess. . . Eren are you okay? You're acting kind of. . . crazy."

I look him in the eyes and smile, a large one that tugs at the corners of my mouth and makes my lips hurt. "I'm perfectly fine, what're you talking about?"

Vash shrugs and I say, "Come, lets go to the sixth floor and get the living room."

I hear another quiet okay, and the two of us race down the stairs again. Passing floor upon floor until we reach the sixth floor, fifth door on the right.

I tear apart the door and giggle, "Do you see that fireplace?"

Vash nods and murmurs, "Yes, I do."

I grin again and whisper, "Lets blow it up."

I can vaguely hear hideous laughter erupt from my mouth as I throw log upon log into the small space, motioning for Vash to pour a little gasoline on the large pile.

The room reeks of an acidic smell as I light three matches, one after another muttering to myself, "One two three and it all burns down. . ."

A small satisfying feeling begins to grow in my chest. I feel free from the confines of my grief. I feel alive as I listen to the creaking above us.

I look back at him and grin, "Now. To Izumi and I's bedroom."

We run down another flight, stopping at the second door on the left. I rip the door off its hinges and throw it aside. Subsequently forcing myself not to look inside. Forcing myself not to look at the paintings of the sea that adorn the walls, at the satin bedspread and beautiful chest of drawers. I motion to the room and say in a strained voice, "Everywhere all over the bed and the chest of drawers, everything must go!"

I stand and watch quietly as Vash dumps gasoline all over the room, then run forward to the bed and light a match, carefully making sure it lands in the center. I stand in front of the bed for a moment, staring into the flames while whispering, "S-so pretty. . ."

In the background I can hear Vash take several steps backwards as flames take over the room around us. A strong hand grips my arm and a far away voice yells, "Eren! Careful!"

I scream, "They're gone!!" and jump back as a flaming ceiling beam falls in front of my face. I bring my hands to my chest and let out a loud, "Oooh!"

The strong hand pulls me towards the door, and the voice screams, "Eren! What the fuck! You're going to get hurt!"

Another piece of ceiling falls in front of me, forcing out a scream and a loud, "We can go now!"

The two of us scurry to the stairs, and the house creaks and flames trail out of the bedroom and after us. I laugh and yell, "Bye house!"

I look back and trip on the first step causing myself to roll down the last several flights of stairs yelling, "Jesus fuck!"

Above me I can hear Vash's voice, "Careful, oh my God!"

At the foot of the large staircase I sit on the floor and clutch my head while hissing.

"My house is falling to pieces!"

Loud almost thundering footsteps come down the stairs followed by, "So I've noticed!"

Vash's voice sounds strained and desperate, while I stand and begin sobbing, "My beautiful house!"

I scream and stumble towards the front door, Vash in tow until a quiet yet at the same time incredibly loud rumbling noise comes from above me.

I barely have the time to whisper, "Oh God no. . ." before a ceiling beam comes crashing down on top of me, forcing out a blood curdling scream.

Vash takes several steps before looking for me and I try to reach out to him screaming his name, trying to wiggle my way from underneath the beam while several loud crunching noises sound from within my rib cage.

Vash turns and I can just barely see his eyes widen as he screeches, "Eren!" while running towards me.

Tears begin to stream down my face while I plead, "Vash, please help me, please get me out of here!"

Vash swears as he tries to lift the beam, and there's a soft sizzling sound followed by the smell of burning flesh. I look over to see his gloves burning away and the muscles of his fingers beginning to become exposed. Yet even with his hands being burned he still continues to try and get me free.

I try to moving again and scream as more crunching noises come from my chest and I give in, sobbing harder and yelling, "V-Vash. . . Just go on! D-Don't hurt yourself for me!"

I look up at him and he's begun to cry as well, tears rolling down his cheeks and evaporating before they can reach the floor. There are pieces of burning house falling down around us and the heat is so intense that I can feel the soles of my shoes melting.

He grimaces and says, "I'm not going to leave you, God dammit!" pushing harder on the beam even though flames are getting dangerously close to the two of us.

I push on the beam with my back, falling before I can help him any. I look to him and yell, "It's not working!" I sob harder, screaming, "Y-You're my best friend V-Vash,"

Tears continue to stream down his face as he says, "I don't wanna leave you. . ."

My vision begins to become cloudy and I can't help but remember that time. That day when we were ten and he saved me from the bullies on the playground at school. His face hasn't changed at all. . . Those mint-green eyes have the same look of sympathy and care in them. I look to him and smile some, "H-Hey Vash. . . Do you remember that time. That time on the playground. . . When you protected me?"

He nods and smiles slightly, "I would never forget, Eren."

I raise my left hand and hold out my pinky finger, sobbing and saying, "B-Best friends forever?"

He takes his pinky and curls it around my own, saying the words back at me. "Best friends forever."

The fire comes closer to us, and I begin to let out body wracking sobs, saying over and over, "I'm sorry. . . So so sorry.. . ."

"N-No Eren, it's okay, it's okay I swear don’t be sorry."

I put my face in my palm and yell, "B-But, you got hurt! Trying to save me a-and then I made you help me b-burn down this wretched house, this is all my fault..."

He smiles a little and says softly, "It's okay, really."

I look back up at him and can feel the flames licking at my feet and calves, murmuring back, "A-are you sure?"

He nods, and says, "I'm sure."

I look around at the burning house that surrounds us from all sides and grimace. A warm hand slowly takes my own, followed by Vash's voice saying gently, "Hey... you're gonna be fine, alright?"

I intertwine my fingers with his and look into those mint-green eyes one last time and say, "Alright."

A loud rumble comes from above and a piece of ceiling lands on top of u- _crunch._

 


End file.
